Curvy for Him: The Psychic and the Senator (Curvy for Him Series Book 9) by Annabelle Winters

Author:Annabelle Winters [Winters, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainshine
Published: 2019-11-06T16:00:00+00:00

7

IRVING

“Took you forever to show up,” I say to her, trying my best to look dispassionate, like I’m not burning with a fever that’s taken over from the inside. Seeing her in the crowd did something to me, completed a process that’s been a year in the making. If I wasn’t sure that I’m living out my destiny, I sure as fuck am sure now.

And this woman is part of that destiny.

Hell, maybe she’s all of that destiny!

She stays quiet as she sits beside me in the sprawling backseat of my limousine. The soundproof partition is up, separating us from my driver and bodyguards. It’s just the two of us. Just like it was a year ago when I saw her step into my prison, into my mind, into my life.

I glance at her as she stares straight ahead like she’s afraid to look into my eyes. It’s her. The woman I saw a year ago when something happened to me, something opened up in me. I know I’ve never seen her in the flesh before, so it wasn’t that I met her in a bar or some shit and then imagined her showing up in my dream.

Shamelessly I take in the sight of her glorious curves, the way her thick thighs are clamped together in her jeans, how her sweater hugs her tits in a way that makes my cock want to explode through my tailored trousers and take care of business. I’ve imagined fucking this nameless woman’s brains out for a goddamn year now, fantasizing about her to the exclusion of every other woman. I haven’t touched a woman in a year, even though my rise to fame and power has chicks sending me their wet panties in the fucking mail! I’ve had eyes only for this woman.

And I don’t even know her name.

“What’s your name?” I say softly, feeling the tension that’s running through her. I gotta play it cool, even though I’m so hot for her I can barely see straight. After all, just because I had some strange vision of her when I was near death a year ago doesn’t mean she had the same vision. For all I know she’s clueless as to why I had her brought here. Maybe she thinks she’s in trouble or something.

“Isa,” she says, still staring straight ahead. I see her swallow hard like she’s stressed out, maybe freaking out, and I have to fight the urge to just grab her, turn her towards me, and kiss the fuck out of those perfect lips, squeeze those big boobs until her nipples harden like arrowheads, rip those jeans off and finger her until she’s wet. Fuck, I want to smell her, taste her, own her!

She’s yours, come the whispers from that dark, secret place inside me—a place I’ve come to know over the past year even though I don’t understand it. At first I wondered if my experience caused some kind of a splinter in my psyche, making me hear voices like a lunatic.

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